In This Quiet Night
by Frog-kun
Summary: Athrun/Lacus. A love song never sung but heard. He listens, and it is through her silence that he learns how to fall in love. A series of inter-related oneshots.
1. First Verse

**Author's note: **I dedicate this fic to doroniasobi because doro dear, you wrote me Athrun/Lacus fic, and you made the sappy romantic in me rear its ugly head. I'm proud of you, son.

**First Verse**

_C.E. 71_

The first time Athrun Zala walked into a florist, he was utterly bewildered. Strange, overpowering scents assailed his nostrils and it took him a few flailing moments to decide whether or not he liked it. He decided he did, sort of – there was something sweet about it – although it was not really for him.

He cast a cool and measured gaze around the store, although he had nothing in his mind to compare and calculate the sights against. Flowers of all arrays and shades were on full display and since they all seemed equally colourful to him, he had no idea where to look first.

Fortunately for him, he was not the first young male to ever be seen floundering helplessly about in a florist, and presently, a shop assistant approached him. "How may I help you?" she asked as she eyed Athrun with a mixture of interest and concern.

Athrun stood tall and straight and looked the young woman in the eye. It was part of his instinct and training to respond to moments of uncertainty with a stiff upper lip.

He said, "I'm here to buy a bouquet."

In response, the shop assistant smiled and set down the broom she had been sweeping the floor with. "I'd be happy to help you choose," she answered. "Who are you buying it for?"

"My fiancée."

"Ah, yes." The shop assistant smiled knowingly, although inwardly she marveled at how someone so young could get married – how old was he? Fifteen? Sixteen? She was also, if she had to be perfectly honest with herself, a bit disappointed because he was really quite a good-looking young man. He had an unassuming sort of handsomeness about him that could not be ignored. His face, though not unpleasant to look at, was not what commanded the most presence. His posture was straight yet not totally rigid and his mouth, though set, seemed capable of easing into a small yet genuinely kind smile. He was equally capable of hardness. What should have been bright green and youthful eyes were dimmed by a depth that betrayed a maturity beyond his years.

She blushed at the sight of him.

"Do you, uh, know anything about what sort of flowers she likes?" she asked quickly, as if to distract herself from looking at him.

Athrun shook his head.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he admitted. He had never had much interaction with women.

"Um…" She frowned and bit her lip. "But I don't know anything about her. What kind of person is she?"

She half-expected him to rattle off a list of all his fiancée's endearing qualities in that enamoured tone she was used to hearing from men who visited the florist. She was surprised when Athrun simply closed his eyes in contemplation. He finally came up with one thing to say.

"She has pink hair."

The shop assistant blinked. She realised in that instant that the young man before her was not in love.

"What are you doing here, then?" the romantic in her wanted to ask, but another part of her smothered it in resignation. When it came to compatibility between Coordinators, love was a priority that was rapidly losing weight. It all came down to genes nowadays. This was not the first man who came to buy flowers for a woman he did not love.

He would not be the last, either.

"Here," the shop assistant said as she hastily and somewhat irritably picked up one of the bouquets on display. "Pink roses. They'll suit your fiancée's hair."

She waved the bouquet in front of him and he took it gingerly. "How much is it?" he inquired politely, and she could sense the increasing ease in his demeanour as he discussed tangible things – like money. She could hardly meet his eyes.

She had not thought they were shallow eyes.

When eventually, he turned to leave, his purchase in hand, she mustered something within herself _(courage? impertinence?)_ and spoke.

"I hope she likes the flowers."

"I hope so too."

She smiled at his response. At least he was trying.

"Nothing matters more than love, you know," she went on blithely.

Athrun was silent for a moment where he stood as if her words had struck him hard on the back of his head. Then he turned to face her.

"You can think that when there's a war going on?" he asked quietly.

Her mouth was suddenly dry. She had not meant to breach such an uncomfortable subject.

"Well…" she said hesitantly. "If there was more love, then there would be less war, right?"

"You're just like her," he said.

And by _her_, she knew implicitly that he was referring to his fiancée.

She was silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Did he think her a fool, that she was naïve? There was a war going on between the Naturals and the Coordinators_ (had nothing to do with her but it had been going on for a year, right?) _and all she had been able to think about was the love life of some random customer at the shop she worked at. She bled inwardly with guilt for that brief moment. She wanted to care the same way the grim-faced stranger before her evidently did, but maybe wanting was not enough for him.

He did not address the unasked questions swirling in her mind. In fact, something in his expression clenched even further before becoming subdued and then restrained. He coughed politely. "Goodbye," he said. "Thank you for serving me."

He left while the barrier was still hard over his heart.

* * *

><p>With slow and deliberate taps, Athrun Zala knocked upon the door of his fiancée's mansion. The flowers, though next to weightless, felt like an unwieldy extension of his arm; he transferred them to his right hand before knocking on the door again.<p>

The door opened noiselessly at that moment, and Athrun inhaled shortly. He felt a breathy sort of nervousness, which was hardly surprising because he experienced it every time he visited the Clyne residence. But it was a well-built establishment, designed for comfort over lavishness, and he knew it as well as his own home.

He nodded his appreciation to the doorman and ventured inside the mansion. A chandelier cast a warm glow throughout the front entrance room as if in welcome. Athrun glanced up the flight of stairs and noticed a man appear at a doorway to the immediate right of it. It was Siegel Clyne, the man who would one day become his father-in-law.

He smiled warmly. "It's good of you to come, Athrun," he said, and beckoned invitingly towards the young man. "Lacus is in her room. She's been expecting you."

Athrun returned the smile. He liked Chairman Clyne. He was around the same age as Athrun's father, but his gaze held a different kind of magnetism. Athrun could remember on his very first visit to his house how awkward his manner had been. He had been unable to even meet the eyes of the girl he was meant to marry. It was Chairman Clyne who had patted him affectionately on the head and then told his wide-eyed daughter: _"I hear Athrun is very good with machines." _And then to Athrun:_ "Athrun, why don't you make something for Lacus? I'm sure she'd like it very much."_

Athrun supposed Chairman Clyne had no one else to blame but himself for the racket all those Haros caused in the house. He could hear their mechanical chirping even from outside the door of Lacus's room. He saw the expression on Clyne's face and could imagine that his own lips were curved into a similar amused smile.

Athrun shuffled hands on his bouquet once again and then knocked on the door.

"Come in!" a lyrical, melodious voice enthused.

Athrun took a deep breath _(why did he need to do this?) _and opened the door slowly.

The pink-haired girl sat at her desk, a pen in her hand. She was tapping her chin contemplatively with it in slow, steady beats. When Athrun walked into her room, she turned her attention to him, and the Haros situated on her bed bounced and chirped with extra vigour.

The girl laughed and waved her pen at the Haros as if it was a disciplinary finger. "Calm down! You mustn't upset your father!"

Athrun felt himself ease into laughter as well. That tight nervousness _(or maybe it was frustration) _in his chest did not quite dissipate, although he did feel it scrunch up into a tighter, more insignificant ball.

As for Lacus, she simply smiled.

Lacus Clyne, beloved pop idol of the PLANTs, had an air of angelic beauty and grace. Her movements were light yet always sure, masked under a deceptive flightiness. She had no visible defects anywhere on her face. Her beauty was of the sort that could be appreciated objectively, like something in a painting or in the scenery. In fact, that was the way he admired her. He knew that how her long, cascading hair fell past her shoulders was pretty and how her slim curves accentuated her figure in all the right places, but it was never a kind of prettiness he ever felt the need to touch. To taint.

He kept a respectful distance, gazing at her across the room.

"Good afternoon, Lacus." He coughed, cleared his throat and wondered why he sounded like a complete fool. She might not have changed in the last few months since they had seen each other, but he had, and the possibility of their cordiality freezing over had not escaped him. Abruptly, he remembered the flowers and held them out for her. "I brought you a gift."

"Oh, thank you so much, Athrun!" She came over to him, smiling in appreciation. "Not a Haro this time?" Lacus took the bouquet and seemed genuinely disappointed. "The others were getting lonely."

Athrun watched on sheepishly as his fiancée place the flowers in a vase on her desk.

"I thought… you had enough of them," he half-mumbled.

Lacus turned back to him, clapped her hands together and shook her head fervently. "Of course not! Your Haros are a part of you, Athrun, and I think of you every time I play with them."

"Oh," said Athrun.

"They're a reflection of your soul!"

"Oh," said Athrun again, as lamely as he had said it the first time.

He glanced over his shoulder back towards the door. Chairman Clyne was gone now, having evidently left in order to give the two of them some privacy. Athrun swallowed. Clyne knew about the mission, of course, since he was a member of the PLANT Supreme Council. He also trusted Athrun not to give away any vital details.

Not that Athrun would ever do something like that.

"Are you thinking about something, Athrun?" Lacus asked. She cocked her head to the side. Her pink Haro bounced off her shoulder and tilted its spherical form over at the same angle she had inclined her head.

"No." Athrun shook his head. "Nothing."

There would have been an awkward silence, but Lacus did not let it culminate into anything. "I heard you graduated top of the class at the ZAFT Military Academy," she remarked pleasantly enough. He caught only the slightest twinge in her voice that betrayed her true sentiments. Lacus Clyne was a pacifist through and through, just like her father was.

… Just like Athrun would be, if it wasn't for Junius Seven. If it wasn't for the world as he knew it crashing around his ears, he would be able to face Lacus today and think she was so right, so clever. And maybe he would stop associating everything with duty, but could he really help it?

"That's right," he said to her. "I've been assigned to the Le Creuset team." That much he was fine with revealing. "I won't see you again for a while."

That caused Lacus to sit up to attention. "You're leaving?"

"Tomorrow," he replied.

She closed her eyes. "Good luck," she said sweetly. "I pray for your survival… and a swift end to the war."

Her Haro beeped and flashed in evident agreement. "Good luck! Good luck!" it chirped incessantly. It filled the silence that might otherwise have existed between its maker and its owner.

"Thank you," Athrun murmured.

He backed away and it was only when he came to the doorway did he look back at Lacus. She had turned her attention back to her desk. She had been writing something with that pen of hers even before he had come in. Her mouth was moving along with the words she wrote, soundlessly. He looked away and focused his gaze ahead of him.

That parting glance was all he needed to be satisfied with her. He had thought about embracing her, but he did not think she needed it. She was quite fine on her own, serene even. She would not change for worse, not on his accord.

It was the kind of constancy he needed more than she did, he realised, but that thought only occurred to him when he was up in space.


	2. Second Verse

**Author's note: **I should mention that despite the genre of this fic being romance, that's not entirely what the story is about. It is a story about war, politics, gain, loss and the pain of growing up. Mostly, it's Athrun's coming-of-age story, but it could count as Lacus's as well, who knows.

**Second Verse**

_C.E. 68_

The second time Athrun Zala met his fiancée was no less awkward than the first time. On the second visit, his father came along, and at the dinner table he discussed politics with Chairman Clyne. That left Athrun and Lacus sitting next to their respective fathers, and occasionally Athrun looked up from where he was pecking at his food to see Lacus beaming at him across the table. That would invariably cause him to burrow his head back down hastily, only for him to repeat the process several minutes later.

Lacus, he decided, was quite a peculiar girl.

His father, noticing his son's bashfulness, rapped him smartly on the head and said, "Sit up straight."

So Athrun did, and he could not help but notice that Lacus was watching and giggling politely into her hand. And Siegel Clyne, now momentarily distracted from political talk, gently and affectionately ran his hand through Lacus's silky pink hair and said, "Now, now, Lacus, a lady mustn't laugh at something like that…!"

"Yes, father," Lacus murmured obediently. Her eyes were twinkling as she spoke, and Athrun could tell that she genuinely wanted to please her father. She really did.

So the two of them _did _have something in common after all, he found himself musing.

Of course, he had to remind himself, they wouldn't be getting _married _if they didn't.

He talked to her later, for just long enough to give her a Haro and be done with it. He had worked on it the entire night beforehand and for some reason, he still wasn't satisfied with how he had made it.

But she seemed to like it. She held it tightly against her bosom and said, with a smile so radiant he was almost ashamed to look at it: "My father was right about you."

* * *

><p>Athrun sometimes thought that his father loved his mother so much he did not have enough love left in his heart to care overmuch about <em>him<em>. His father was all stern looks and high expectations, but there was always gruff acknowledgment from him if Athrun squinted and willed himself hard enough into believing it.

He never talked about any of this. He never did. But somehow, he was almost certain his mother was fully aware of it. His mother knew a great deal about many things. She worked late, but she was nevertheless the first parent of his to return home in the evenings. At night, she would tell Athrun about all the things she had seen and heard, and that was how he knew she was clever.

A professor specialising in biological engineering, Lenore Zala also had postgraduate degrees in agriculture, diplomacy and commerce. Her articles on gene modification were frequently published in leading medical journals, both on Earth and in the PLANTs. Lenore was considered a Coordinator among Coordinators and despite recently turning thirty-nine she retained much of her youthful beauty.

Yet at home, Lenore Zala was none of these things. She was a mother first and foremost, and she often told Athrun that no amount of tinkering with the genes could enhance or diminish a mother's love. The stories she told Athrun were not often work-related; usually, they were funny little anecdotes about the people she had met or she places she had been to. She talked about an old gentleman she met at the space terminal, a first-generation Coordinator who always seemed to tack on words like "Infinitesimal" and "Incongruence" into his sentences. "He was incapable of saying words with less than three syllables," Lenore said, smiling, and that would make Athrun laugh because he had met funny old men like that himself. The older first-generation Coordinators who had had their genes modified for superior intelligence could be like that.

Lenore Zala also told many stories about the past, particularly about Athrun's father. It was through the web of tales she spun, about the eager, ambitious and passionate young man she had met in her youth that Athrun came to love his often absent father.

"He is hard on you because he is proud of you and expects a great deal from you," his mother would explain. "Just like his father was expectant of great things from him."

She would often pause when she came to this part. Athrun would remember his mother's face in years to come and he would think that the only person capable of replicating such a gentle, understanding expression of melancholy was Lacus Clyne.

"Such is the fate," his mother whispered, "of the Coordinators."

* * *

><p>For two years, Athrun visited Lacus about once every fortnight. He came to anticipate these visits because they kept his hands busy. He liked working on the Haros and he liked Lacus's reaction whenever he handed his finished product to her. Her eyes would light up in delighted surprise (even after the fifteenth or so Haro; this in itself Athrun found quite fascinating) and she would gingerly take the present from his compliant fingers and hold it close to her as if it was a treasured prize.<p>

Lacus was the only girl who Athrun knew reasonably well. He attended an all-boys school in December City and although in his childhood he had went to a co-ed preparatory school his only friend he remembered clearly had been a boy. (_Kira, _he thought with a smile.) This made Lacus an object of fascination for him because her ways were so distinctly foreign to him. She sat with her legs close together and she wore a dress that reached her ankles. She liked to sing and talk about pretty dresses and art and music. Her interests were so vastly different from his that being with her was never quite as fun as being with, say, Kira had been. Yet Athrun was beginning to learn that a girl's gratitude and company held a flavour that was enjoyable in its own way.

If they were ever to sustain a conversation, it would be about their fathers. It was their fathers who had brought them together, after all.

"My father is a very good man," Lacus said, her smile warm and unassuming as she spoke. "I think he would still love me, even if I were to rob a bank."

Athrun tried to imagine sweet, clumsy Lacus being involved in theft and concluded that her bright pink hair would betray her before she walked two paces. Then he tried to imagine what would happen if _he _robbed a bank. The thought made him shiver in dread.

After a moment of hesitation, he confided to Lacus that he did not think _his _father's reaction would be quite the same as hers.

"But you would do anything in the world for him, wouldn't you?" she said.

"I... suppose so."

"Oh, but you do!" Lacus insisted. "I can see it in your eyes. You're so loyal and caring, Athrun."

Only Lacus could utter words like that so often but always with enough keen sincerity for them to never lose their meaning. He supposed he was happy to hear her say such things, even though he had done little to deserve it.

"Father..." he uttered softly and scrunched his eyes shut so that he could _see _Patrick Zala's face in his mind's eye.

And he _wondered_.

If he were to marry this girl beside him and become a man, what sort of man would that be?

Almost immediately, he discarded the thought. The future was so far away it seemed ethereal to him and there was no use being mutinous towards his parents about it.

"Yes," Lacus went on softly. "Your loyalty is admirable. It is why you are with me..."

_Inhale_.

"... and I with you."

And Athrun closed his eyes and fell silent because he did not know what to say that, never would. He suspected that even if he did know, he would not have said anything.

Perhaps some lessons were best learned without words or verbatim.

* * *

><p>Looking back, he sometimes thought that if he had ever fallen in – in <em>anything <em>– with Lacus, it would have been then, at that impressionable age when it was possible to mistake admiration for love and obligation as true purpose. He knew, at any rate, that he could not treat Lacus as any ordinary friend, not because she was different or because she was a girl or even because she was his fiancée. He did not understand himself, let alone her.

And so, Lacus was forever a mystery to him.

It was his mother who gently and sensitively probed him on the issue first.

"Have you attended any of Lacus's concerts?" she asked him over a late dinner one night.

What prompted her sudden question was the television. Lacus Clyne was being interviewed on what looked like a talk show. There she was on air, sitting elegantly like she always did around Athrun and dressed in a blue evening dress that was – no other word for it – stunning.

It was only for moments like these that Athrun remembered that Lacus was a pop idol and that she was rapidly gaining a strong and steady fanbase among the inhabitants of the PLANTs.

In answer to his mother's question, he shook his head. "No, never."

"That's understandable," his mother replied. "She's a politician's daughter to you."

Athrun made a non-committal noise in response.

"Would you like to see one of her concerts one day?" his mother asked. "She'd appreciate it very much, I think."

He hesitated and for a moment was unsure why. And then he knew. Lacus the singer belonged to everyone. He might know her as a politician's daughter but the _real _Lacus Clyne...

He shook his head. "I... I'm not sure."

"Ah," said his mother, and it seemed as if she was about to say more when Lacus on the television spoke up.

"I'd like to thank all the kind and selfless people who have helped me. I'd like to thank my manager, my makeup artists, my assistants and everyone else who has ever said a kind word to me. I'll always appreciate it from the bottom of my heart."

She meant it, Athrun knew. She really, genuinely thought the world of every single person she met...

His mother must have seen something indicative in Athrun's face at that moment, because from then on, she never asked him about Lacus's career again.

* * *

><p>The next time he met Lacus, he kissed her.<p>

It was not something he had planned but it was certainly not an act of impulse either. He had thought about kisses and hugs before, about what he, as Lacus's fiancé, was meant to _do_. He had not dwelt upon these ideas for overly long (he had a feeling his cheeks would burn if he dared) but he had always suspected he had been neglectful of his duties somehow. Their courtship seemed less like courtship and more like playful frolic by the visit, and although Lacus's father never objected (he only smiled), Athrun wondered what his father would say if he knew.

... Or maybe he was thinking about duty so much because he did not want to consider his own feelings. Whatever the case, he talked about it with Lacus as they walked down the garden together.

"A kiss?" said Lacus curiously.

Feeling more like a fool by the second, Athrun tried not to stammer in his reply. "We've been seeing each other a while, for two years and-"

"I understand," Lacus cut him short. And then she smiled. "Here, Athrun."

She turned her cheek towards him.

Slowly, hesitantly, he edged forward until he was close enough to press his lips against it.

Afterwards, he would not be able to remember much of the kiss, maybe because it had hardly counted as anything at all. He could remember that Lacus's skin had been warm and soft and that she might have closed her eyes as his lips pressed against her. But that was it, and he could not recall what it had felt like when she pecked his cheek in return.

What he _could _remember was drawing away from her slowly and thinking, _feeling_ that this whole affair for him resembled something disarmingly similar to unrequited love...

He cleared his throat.

"Happy birthday, Lacus."

She really did smile then, not in acceptance or in resignation but in pure, unabashed joy. "Thank you, Athrun," she said to him, and something in his heart almost felt like clenching at the same time it felt like easing. "You remembered! My father is away for a peace conference, so he couldn't say it to me..."

The date was 5 February, C.E. 70. Lacus was fifteen years old.

That was the same day the Tragedy of Copernicus took place.

* * *

><p>Athrun suspected that if he had the time and luxury to worry about how he felt about Lacus, he would have used it. And maybe, by thinking about it a bit more, he would have come to some sort of realisation.<p>

He could no longer afford that. The beginnings of a war were etched out before him, and as a politician's son, he had no choice but to take an interest in it over anything else. He heard the news as it came, the terse conversations his father had with his mother about _the situation_. He heard everything that could possibly frighten a boy who had lived in peace all his life.

He read in the tabloids about what exactly the Tragedy of Copernicus was: namely, a terrorist attack on the peace conference on the moon.

By sheer luck, Lacus's father lived to tell the tale. He had been delayed by a shuttle malfunction and had thus escaped the bombing altogether. Athrun watched Lacus embrace her father tightly upon his return to December City and instead of feeling his heart being warmed by the scene, all he could perceive was a heightening sensation of fear and dread.

_A terrorist attack on the moon! _

Only two years ago, Athrun had been on the moon himself, attending school in the very city that had been attacked. Copernicus City was the first and, to this day, the biggest civilian city built on Earth's moon. Athrun had lived there for seven years, attending prep school there.

He could remember vividly the day he left, the assurances he had carried in his heart. He had spoken of them to a friend: _"There will be no war between Earth and the PLANTs."_ So it did not feel real to him, not yet.

His mother kept it a horrifying illusion by uttering sweet words of comfort, even as she explained the situation to him as it stood.

"Siegel Clyne lived, so the Earth Alliance seeks to blame him for the entire tragedy. He's a scapegoat to them. But don't worry, Athrun. Your father and Chairman Clyne are working together to prevent a war breaking out."

Athrun nodded. He did not need to be told to be brave. He watched as Siegel Clyne gently prised his daughter away from him so that he could properly face Patrick Zala. He watched as Lacus complied in an effort to please her father and scrunched the tears of concern away from her now unsmiling eyes. He watched and saw in his father's leadership and the confident way he carried the discussion the man who his mother had fallen in love with.

He thought then that the strength of will he saw that day would be enough to carry a nation.

"And you, mother?" he said, turning to Lenore Zala. "What will you do?"

She smiled at him, and he loved her all the more because she was able to do that. "I'm going to Junius Seven," she said. "I'm going as an ambassador. I'll be back in a week. Until then, stay strong."

That was two days before the Bloody Valentine Incident.


	3. Third Verse

**Author's note: **I always thought Lacus was the only person able to bring out Athrun's adorkable side. Comparatively, he is rather unimpressed with Meer and quite smooth with Cagalli. Oh, how I envy that bastard.

This chapter is pretty much a straight novelisation of episode nine. Uh, bear with it for a little? I edited this a bit after posting because I think I hate myself for being such a mecha nerd.

**Third Verse**

_C.E. 71_

The cockpit of the war machine smelled not of death but of recently sprayed disinfectant. Athrun sat down upon the orange seat of the GAT-X303 Aegis Gundam and busied himself with making some last-minute adjustments of the interface. He was a cautious soldier. Even though the mechanics of the Vesalius had thoroughly inspected Athrun's mobile suit after the last battle, Athrun was unwilling to let anything slip him by. He was painfully conscious of how a temporary lack of foresight could cost lives.

One of the first things he did as soon as he entered the cockpit was to lean forward and flick on a switch on the front control panel. That caused the monitor in front of him to light up and display the mobile suit operation system. The operation system, known as the M.O.S., was highly complex even for Coordinators, and Athrun had to strain to read and absorb all the information that came up on the screen. He set the computer system to scan the condition of the mobile suit. While the computer busied itself with that task, Athrun moved his hand up and pressed another button that was situated just above the monitor. This button was a simple toggle of the mobile suit's air-conditioning. In the time it took for him to do that, he noticed the computer had completed its scan. The GAT-X303 Aegis was ready to go.

"Athrun!" the voice of his teammate Yzak Joule crackled through his mobile suit's radio. "Show us how that machine performs!"

He could _hear _the eagerness in Yzak's voice. Yzak, Athrun knew, was not necessarily bloodthirsty, but it was sometimes hard to tell in the heat of battle.

He did not want to hesitate in front of such a soldier.

"Sure," he said. It was hard to tell if he had meant what he said and he was the one who had said it. Yzak would certainly not think too hard about it.

Athrun would have sighed if he had not needed to concentrate so much.

A dozen thoughts swirled through his head as he settled into position, and he paused for a moment, trying to clear them from his mind. He thought about his captain, whose orders he needed to obey. He thought about his father and his hard, expectant eyes that glittered with something that had not been there before the Bloody Valentine Incident. Mostly, he found himself thinking about his old friend Kira.

"_You used to tell me you hated the whole idea of war! So why did you attack Heliopolis?"_

Athrun sat back in his chair and – calmly – laid his hands on the armrest. He was prepared to lay his life on the line. He gazed firmly up at his monitor.

"Athrun Zala, launching!"

Immediately after that, he experienced the sensation of flying in space.

Flying in a mobile suit was not quite the same sort of experience as flying in an aircraft on earth. Athrun felt no sensation of air around him. He had no direct windows outside into space and nor could he see the scenery roll past as his mobile suit sped through the air. He had a view through his monitor, but it was somehow like looking into another place and not directly in front of him. At least, that was how he had felt the first time he had ever piloted a mobile suit.

Now his hands moved across the control panel with consummate ease and with a push of a button, he manouevred his mobile suit to his right. The cockpit was so firmly encased within the mobile suit's torso that he did not feel any sensation of movement at all.

His monitor showed that ahead of him lay a fleet of ships that belonged to the Earth Alliance. They were massive, grey, solid-looking things, although experience had taught Athrun that even they could be taken down in quick measure. He jerked his hand forward, bringing his mobile suit speeding into acceleration.

The first ship that sighted him was a Moebius mobile armor. It almost seemed as if it was looking at Athrun before it shot at him with its beam cannon. Anticipating the attack, Athrun deftly manouevred the Aegis out of the way. At the same time, he prepared his beam rifle in retaliation. Quickly, he sighted his target and shot at it and, without pausing to see if he had hit or not, he turned to the next Moebius in line. He shot at it too.

He saw in his monitor that both ships went down. They exploded with a brilliance that was almost blinding, and Athrun sped past them without sparing them another glance. It was best not to stay in one spot for too long.

As he flew onward, he checked to see how his teammates were faring in battle. Yzak was caught up in an engagement of his own with a Moebius, while his other two teammates were still some distance behind him. Space was very rapidly becoming a chaotic battlefield. Athrun grit his teeth together; it was a habit of his in stressful situations, when he needed to concentrate. He dove closer towards the Earth Alliance's main warship and had to duck out of the way to avoid various shrapnel in the vicinity. Whoever said space was empty?

The Earth Alliance's hulking warship rapidly came into view. It was no sleek Archangel, but Athrun was still somewhat tentative as he drew close because he could see the massive cannons it had equipped on its flanks.

He knew how to handle this. He had been taught how to do it.

The green beam that he shot from his rifle hit the warship square on the side. Immediately, Athrun sped away to avoid counterattack but did not bother to use his gun again. He understood the futility of tackling the great warship with simply a beam rifle. He needed to change his tactics.

Hastily, he began typing away into the Aegis's M.O.S.

Athrun's mobile suit had a distinct feature that could be found in no other mobile suit. It could transform into a mobile armor, which was similar in shape to the Moebius but much quicker and much more powerful. The mobile armor form of the Aegis was more unwieldy than the mobile suit form but it had access to a whole different array of weaponry. Weaponry that Athrun was eager to make use of.

_Concentrate, Athrun._

He was satisfied when the beam from his cannon collided into the warship. He could see it visibly rock under the pressure of the attack.

Athrun felt a small, grim prick of happiness from this result. _Only a bit more…_

He was about to shoot again when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that he was being targeted again. Another mobile suit came into view. Athrun knew, because the Earth Alliance had only one mobile suit on their side, exactly who his opponent was. The thought caused a sinking sensation in his stomach, as it always did. He gnashed his teeth together again, so hard that his gums stung in response. He could already feel telltale beads of sweat forming at the base of his forehead.

The Aegis's mobile armor form was ineffective in close combat. Without any delay, Athrun changed his form back into a mobile suit so that he could face the Earth Alliance's GAT-X105 Strike Gundam. Pulling out his beam rifle once again, he – reluctantly, he thought – began to shoot.

The Strike dodged, albeit narrowly. _Of course_, Athrun found himself thinking. He felt as if something heavy had descended upon the cockpit as he pushed the Aegis onward. He had to avoid the Strike's own shots. He could not afford to die here.

_(And what about Lacus?)_

Athrun put away his gun, took out his beam saber and slashed at his opponent in earnest. The Strike had its own beam saber out, and the two blades clashed and produced a vicious yet almost mesmerising spark.

Athrun grunted and frowned – as deeply and as bitterly as he could remember.

* * *

><p>"Damn it!" exclaimed Mr. Pink, the first and most treasured of Lacus's Haros.<p>

Lacus Clyne smiled. Mr. Pink had learned to swear from Athrun, when he had stubbed his toe and cursed aloud in Lacus's presence. That had made him quite flustered, she remembered, because he had clearly made some sort of resolve to act as gentlemanly as possible in her presence. Even though Lacus laughed and told him it didn't matter, Athrun continued to look so helpless and guilty that she eventually shook her head and said "Damn it!" back to him. That had certainly shocked the guilt out of his system. Lacus laughed and laughed as she took Athrun's hand and told him, most seriously:

"That Haro, I will name him Mr. Pink."

In a time of uncertainty, when there was nothing familiar in the room she stayed in except for Mr. Pink, these comforting memories flooded to her mind, and she smiled yet again.

It was not an uncomfortable room, she reasoned. It was actually quite comfy and the bed was ever so warm. The only problem about it was that her kind hosts wanted her to stay in that room and never come out. They even locked the door on her. This was unfortunate because Lacus was sure Mr. Pink wanted to go exploring just as much as she did. She stayed because a nice boy – Mr. Yamato, she remembered his name – told her it would be best if she did.

She gazed back down at Mr. Pink, who she held in her hands. She thought she could almost see her fiancé looking back at her. They both had the same sort of sadness in their eyes, she thought. Athrun and Mr. Yamato. They possessed such similar kindness.

She longed at that moment to reach out to the both of them – if they would let her.

"Oh, Haro," she whispered. "Shall we sing a song?"

Mr. Pink chirped happily in response.

"Good," Lacus said sweetly. She laughed. "Okay, here goes!"

She cleared her throat and began to croon the lyrics softly:

"_In this quiet night,_

_I'm waiting for you,_

_Forgetting the past,_

_And dreaming of you…"_

She had always thought of all those people she had loved so dearly when she sang that song. She thought about her father, her mother (who she had never known but wished to, so dearly) and she thought of Athrun and even strangers sometimes. She had always believed that she could love every person she met, however brief the encounter, because she had with them a special sort of interaction she could only ever have with that one person.

It was not surprising to her that this time she thought of Mr. Yamato and the warmth that stirred in her own heart.

She barely even noticed when the door of her room slid open until the footsteps sounded and Haro fell silent in response. That was when she looked up, at the face of a red-haired girl –

Lacus opened her mouth in greeting, but the girl yanked her arm and pulled her to her feet.

In that instant, Lacus felt so feeble and inadequate that she could not speak. Words, her most valued tool, were not enough.

The girl looked back at her with the deepest expression of revile.

* * *

><p>Their swords clashed once again in space. The Aegis and the Strike circled each other, and Athrun was beginning to feel his heart pump in his mouth. It was not a sensation he enjoyed, particularly in combat.<p>

_Especially _in combat.

He tried to shoot his opponent down with his gun, but again, the Strike dodged, and Athrun was forced to bring out his blade again.

_Such an elusive fool!_

Around him, he could perceive the chaos of battle continuing in earnest. To his left, the warship he had initially been targeting began to explode.

It was a fixating sight, yet one that he almost did not notice. But there it was, so blatantly visible on his monitor even as the Strike remained the most prominent object on screen. In spite of the destruction being his primary objective, Athrun felt a slight shiver crawl down his spine at the sight of it. There must have been so many people on that ship.

He was about to consider what to do next when suddenly, he heard a voice over his radio. It was not a voice that he recognised.

"Attention ZAFT forces! This is the warship Archangel of the Earth Alliance forces!"

A woman's voice. Athrun noticed the Strike froze as well, as the woman continued to speak. She went on to state the one thing Athrun had not expected and never would have wanted to hear.

"Presently under the protective custody of this ship is PLANT Supreme Council Chairman Siegel Clyne's daughter, Lacus Clyne."

_Lacus!_

He stiffened.

"What?" He barely even noticed his own exclamation leave his lips.

The woman from the Earth Alliance continued, slowly yet firmly, emphasising each word as she spoke them. She was fully aware of their power.

"By chance, we came across a lifepod with her inside. We brought her aboard as a humanitarian gesture. However, should you decide to attack this vessel, we shall consider that an abandonment of your responsibility to protect Miss Clyne. We will then be forced to take this matter into our own hands."

Suddenly, the words his superior had said to him before he had set out on his current mission – "_… or come back weeping over her dead body…" _– meant so much more than they had meant at the time. The thought of Lacus dying had always been a possibility to him, but not one that he had bothered to consider when he was meant to be busy thinking about the war. Somewhere in his mind, he had always thought of Lacus as being invulnerable against the evils of reality. She had always come across that way…

Lacus, he knew, had been visiting the memorial of Junius Seven when her ship encountered difficulties. She was reported as missing. That day, before the beginning of the present battle, Athrun, who was already on a mission to destroy the Archangel, was assigned to rescue her. At first, he had thought of it as a distraction from his main duty and that he was being manipulated. But now she was being taken hostage by cowards who were unable to win their own battles fairly.

Athrun felt a wave of hot anger course through him. It was an anger he knew was justified and acceptable.

"What monsters you are!"

He turned to the pilot of the Strike. "Using a rescued civilian as a hostage? So do you still feel justified in fighting by the side of these cowards?" And, frustrated, he yelled out the name of this pilot who he knew so well. "Kira!"

"Athrun, I…"

But there was a limit Athrun could take, and that limit had been reached. He thought about Lacus, who did not _deserve _what happened to her. He fought so that people like her wouldn't have to get involved. If there was one thing he had resolved to protect, it was innocence like hers.

So he said what he was feeling.

"I'm gonna rescue her. That's a promise!"


	4. Fourth Verse

**Author's note: **This isn't really a story about Kira and Athrun's relationship, so I tried not to put too much emphasis on it here so I could put more of an AsuRaku slant on the scenes in the anime.

After so much cumbersome description last chapter, I thought it would be a nice change to have mostly conversations this time around. I particularly enjoyed writing the first scene in this chapter.

**Fourth Verse**

When Athrun first joined the military, he could remember precisely what the drill sergeant had said as he circled the huddle of nervous recruits.

"I don't care about your reasons for joining this army," he had declared, a hot scowl directed at all of them with equal measure. "You are not children anymore – you are soldiers of ZAFT! And I expect you to act like one. Don't you dare show any weakness! If you do, then you die – your fellow Coordinators too. Remember Junius Seven!"

The rallying cry had been enough to erase Athrun's doubts.

He recalled that whenever he was confronted with a situation he thought he might not be able to handle. He was not a child anymore. Children did not wield guns and mobile suits and they certainly did not kill people, like Athrun had done. When he returned to the Vesalius that day, he wondered if somehow, out on the battlefield, he had acted like one again. He had screamed, lost his temper – had acted, in short, in a way his father had always labelled as "carrying on". It was all because of Kira and Lacus, he thought, the two people who reminded him most of what it had been like to be a child.

He was with Commander Le Creuset, listening to the man discuss what they were going to do about the situation. None of it made him feel any better, and he found the one thing he wanted the most was to somehow steal Lacus away from the Archangel, just to take her somewhere safe.

But the possibility of somehow sneaking onto the Archangel without anyone noticing was impossible. Not even Nicol with the Blitz could manage something like that. Athrun knew that now on hindsight. Rescuing Lacus Clyne was that impossible feat that he wanted to achieve with every ounce of his being. Get her out of the way so that the war could be left to the soldiers.

Then he would not have to put up with his superiors calmly considering the possibility of simply leaving her to her death...

He paced down the hallway of the Vesalius, brow furrowed and mind deep in thought. Vaguely, he noticed one of his teammates waiting outside his room for him. Nicol Amalfi raised his curly-haired head when Athrun approached. He waved.

"Athrun!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Athrun, truthfully enough. _He _was fine. Lacus, too, was probably fine – for the time being, at least. The Earth Alliance would not harm a hostage while she was still useful to them.

Something of his bitterness must have transferred to his face because Nicol continued to peer at him concernedly.

"Lacus Clyne," he said, and Athrun stiffened involuntarily at the sound of her name in spite of himself. Nicol drew closer. "She's your fiancée, isn't she?"

Athrun nodded.

"I hope she'll be okay," Nicol remarked.

Athrun gazed his fellow teammate, and a small smile formed on his lips. He appreciated Nicol's concern. It did not change the situation one iota, but he still felt a little gladdened. A nice change from traitorous friends and kidnapped fiancées, he thought.

Nicol smiled comfortingly and began making his way across the hallway. As he floated in mid-stride, he said, "So what's it like, being engaged?"

Athrun blinked. It was not a question he had considered in a while.

"All right, I guess," he said finally.

"Oh," said Nicol. He was fidgeting with the collar of his uniform now.

It was Athrun's turn to look on with concern.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Nicol answered quickly. "At least, nothing important. I mean, there's this whole war going on so I haven't really had time to think about it and you have your own problems anyway. I mean, your fiancee's in trouble and everything and I just-"

Athrun stared at him blankly.

"There's a girl I like," Nicol confessed.

"Oh," said Athrun, blandly. He was not sure how he was meant to react to that.

Blushing furiously now, Nicol dropped his tone into a conspiring whisper.

"She lives back at home in December City. I was thinking of, I don't know, telling her how I feel when this mission's over, you know?" He laughed nervously. "I know this is really bad timing and everything, but I thought, since you have a fiancée and everything, you'd know what to do."

What had really happened – and Athrun knew this perfectly well – was that the whole thing about Lacus being taken hostage had alarmed Nicol to an extent. He had probably thought that the things he held dear could be taken away so quickly he would not see it coming. It had, in other words, filled him with a sense of urgency about his own situation. Athrun could understand why Nicol was being so jumpy.

But as for giving _advice _to him...

Athrun hesitated.

"I... I don't really... Lacus and I, we don't really..."

"Oh," said Nicol, evidently disappointed. "I thought for sure you'd know more than me about all of this. Dearka said that since you and Miss Clyne were engaged, you must have, you know..."

"Must have what?"

Nicol's face was as red as his uniform. "Gone all the way," he whispered.

"To where?" Athrun asked, frowning, before the implication hit him. Then he blanched. "What, no!"

"Sorry," said Nicol sheepishly, as if everything Dearka said was somehow his fault.

"You don't have to apologise, Nicol," Athrun told him, sighing. "Just... don't mention it, all right?"

"Okay, Athrun."

Athrun sighed again.

So much for not being children anymore, he thought sourly.

* * *

><p>It was the sound of Mr. Pink's chirping that woke her up.<p>

"Haro! No problem! No problem!"

And, somewhere in the groggy corners of her consciousness, she could hear an answering call. "Shh! Haro!"

Lacus stirred. The bed was warm. Her Haros only made a noise at night when they had good intentions for waking her up. This, Lacus was well aware of.

"Yes, Haro?" She rubbed her eyes and began to sit up. "What is it?"

She opened her eyes to see Kira Yamato attempting to shush Mr. Pink into silence.

It might have occurred to Lacus that a boy sneaking into a girl's room at night must have some sort of ulterior motive in mind, but she did not think Kira was that type of person.

"Huh? Mr. Yamato? I hope there isn't a problem, is there?"

In return, he made another shushing noise.

"Please, don't say a word and come with me. Quietly."

* * *

><p>First there was the alert for level one battle stations. Without hesitation, Athrun climbed into the Aegis, even though it was an ungodly hour of the night. (Not that he was going to sleep anyway, he thought.)<p>

He was out in space, not quite sure what the newest threat was, other than the Strike had been deployed. His mind worked furiously, and he tried not to consider what exactly the pilot was doing –

Until the message came.

"This is the pilot of the mobile suit Strike. I am from the Earth Alliance Forces' vessel Archangel. I am bringing Lacus Clyne to you. The Nazca-class is to cut its engines. I will hand her over on the condition that we are met only by the pilot of the Aegis."

_Him. Athrun. _Kira wanted to bring Lacus back to him.

"If you do not meet these demands, I cannot guarantee her safety."

Athrun felt his heart flood into his mouth. He could not even begin to comprehend the implications of this all but somehow he was going to see Lacus again. And it was all thanks to Kira.

_Kira_.

* * *

><p>And so it was that what seemed like a complicated mess of a situation had a way of working itself out in the end. Sort of.<p>

When Athrun first saw Lacus with Kira, his first thought was _"It's all going to be okay."_

When Lacus waved at him and Haro yelled "Damn it!" Athrun felt an unexpected tingle of warmth inside of him that he had not felt in years. It was like being a child again, he realised, and standing outside in the sunshine and marvelling how bright and strong the sun was for the very first time. He had taken it for granted for years.

As for that moment when he held Lacus and pulled her onto his level, it was... His mind fumbled. It felt good, he decided. He was _glad_. He found himself peering into Lacus's face, trying to take in and recall the details of a face he had not bothered to properly scrutinise for so long. In a way, he realised, he knew it better than his own face. Her smiles always did have the same sort of warmth, he remembered with a jolt.

There was, however, something different about Lacus that was readily noticeable.

When he touched Lacus's hand, his second thought, to his chagrin, was to wonder exactly how her stomach had gotten so large. It was like she was pregnant, and the thought of that summoned memories of that particularly embarrassing conversation with Nicol.

But Lacus was speaking and Athrun had to think about the situation. "Thank you for everything you've done, Mr. Yamato! And Athrun," she said, as she turned to face him directly, the warmth so clearly imprinted on her that there was no other way to describe her presence as simply Lacus being Lacus. "You as well," she said sweetly.

He gave her a bow which was little more than a shrug of his head and shoulders – the best he could manage while in space.

_When this war is over, _he thought, and halted mid-thought, even as his eyes were still trained on Lacus.

Then he smiled. He was happy, at least, for that one moment. Before the farewells could be said and Athrun was himself once more.

* * *

><p>Having Lacus aboard the Vesalius was like bringing a piece of December City onto the warship. In Athrun's mind, the two entities were so fundamentally different that to witness them so close together seemed like a farce. It was like watching Yzak discuss fine arts and poetry with the Blue Cosmos leaders.<p>

It was not simply the circumstances of the ship that changed when Lacus came aboard. What followed was a shift in gear in Athrun's very lifestyle and way of thinking. He found his mind being completely overridden by thoughts of Lacus even as he went about attending his other duties: was she okay? Was she eating well? Sleeping well? Even as he let himself dwell on his fiancée as he had not done in what seemed like a very long time, he was also glad that this arrangement was temporary. She was, in a very real sense, a distraction to him. He did not think he would stop worrying about her wellbeing until she was back home at the PLANTs.

It all came to a head not very long after Lacus got settled into her quarters. Athrun was making his way down the hallway, thinking of maybe visiting Lacus to see how she was doing, when all of a sudden the door ahead of him opened and a round pink object zoomed out of the room and bounced against the walls. "Haro! Haro! Athrun!" It was Mr. Pink. It flew straight towards Athrun, who caught it reflexively in his hand.

He sighed, because he knew that when Haro was up and about, Lacus was not too far away. "Lacus...!" he said exasperatedly as he looked up and saw the girl in question floating towards him. Didn't she _know _how worried she had made him?

"Haro is overly excited," she said as she drew near. "I guess he's happy to see you after all this time."

She took Mr. Pink from his outstretched hand.

"Haro doesn't have any emotional component to him at all, Lacus," Athrun said, even though they had been over this argument countless times in their pre-war trysts and Lacus was probably not going to change her quaint yet erroneous way of thinking any time soon. He decided it was best to talk about his real concern at the moment.

"You are a guest aboard this vessel but the Vesalius _is _a warship. Be careful not to wander outside of your room too frequently."

With that, he gently took her into his arms and carried her into her room. It was a fairly spacious living area, although judging from the pout on Lacus's face, the material comforts were not quite what she desired.

"I have been told that everywhere I go," she remarked as the door slid shut behind them. "It's not much fun."

"It can't be helped, can it?" said Athrun. "That's the situation you're in right now."

Lacus sighed.

They were silent for a moment. Then Lacus peered at him, her eyes bright and wide and she said, "Athrun, is something wrong?"

He snapped out of a reverie he had not quite known he had been in. "Uh..." he said lamely. "It's just... I was wondering how you were getting along. I mean you were taken hostage and forced to go through so much."

It was the closest he could ever quite manage to stating how he had felt during the whole thing, and judging by the sweet expression that grew on Lacus's face as she listened to his words, that fact had not escaped her. "I'm in very good spirits, thank you," she said. "Rest assured, your friend treated me with respect and dignity while I was on that vessel."

"Is that right?" Athrun said, and felt the sadness and frustration inside of him begin to resurface in spite of himself.

"I found Mr. Yamato to be a kind individual," Lacus insisted. "And he is a very strong character."

"He's nothing but a misguided fool," he said bitterly. "He said he's not a soldier and yet he's still piloting that thing. He's just being used but he justifies it. Something about protecting his friends. It's because his parents are Naturals! That's why-!"

He noticed Lacus raise her hand to his cheek, but he pulled away from her touch. Maybe if he did let her touch him, he would feel a little better, but his instinct was against it. She didn't _understand_. It was his duty and part of his life's calling to protect and care for her, but this... his problems... they were none of her concern. It was nothing a girl like her could fix. He had already convinced himself of that when the war began.

"He told me himself that he would much rather not fight against you," she said, but Athrun was ready for that.

"He's not the only one! Why should I want to...?"

He realised then that he was betraying more emotion than he had intended. "I ask for your forgiveness," he said stiffly. "If you would please excuse me."

He bowed.

He was just about to leave the room when he caught Lacus's parting words to him.

"When I look upon you, there's a different person there. Lately, I can only see bitterness."

It sounded almost as if, just by being himself, he had broken a part of her heart. Maybe that gentle reproach in her sorrow broke his heart too in equal measure.

He had not known that she had felt that way about who he was. It was to be expected, but somehow it still caused a tug on his heart that he did not want to feel. Not among everything else.

_Almost, almost, but not quite. He was not a child anymore. He had changed, and he knew it._

"I can't exactly fight a war with a big smile on my face," he said, and so he left without another word.

The door closed behind him. He walked on alone.


End file.
